Italy out of hand by Barbara Hodgson

In the spirit of travel, I picked up this book, Italy out of hand, A Capricious Tour by Barbara Hodgson. Italy has always been one of my favorite countries. I lived there for 5 years, from 1982 to 1987. My father was stationed there, first with the Sixth Fleet (Mediterranean), AFSOUTH (Armed Forces Southern Italy), then at the Naval Hospital. I have fond memories of living in Europe: going to Rome for Christmas Eve Mass, visiting the islands of Sicily and Capri, traveling via hydrofoil in Venice, eating ices and gelati at Tony Sampan's, and eating pizza al metro (pizza by the meter) in downtown Naples.

Naples is one of the cities explored in Hodgson's book. The list includes Genova (Genoa), Milano (Milan), Bologna, Ferrara, Venezia (Venice), Padova (Padua), Firenze (Florence), Arezzo, Perugia, Pisa, Roma (Rome), Napoli (Naples) and Sicilia (Sicily, including Palermo). This is no ordinary guidebook; it brings together famous (and notorious) historical figures, expatriates, churches, squares, fashion, food, music and stories galore. I enjoyed revisiting places I'd been (albeit almost 30 years ago, now). There is always more to learn and more to discover, no matter how much you know.

Life can be gritty, messy, and wholly embarrassing, and the book explores the scandals as well as the triumphs. I was disappointed to reach the end of these travels...it only made me want to go back. Someday, I will.

All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2011

The Muse is Back from Holiday...

...I think. She's quite the world traveler. This time, she decided to go to Saint Kitts in the Caribbean, with side trips to Egypt circa 2000 BCE and Rome circa 50 BCE. She came back wearing an elegant Italian noblewoman's gown, complete with beaded headdress and corset. Custom-made, she said, from the same dressmaker who outfitted Lucrezia Borgia.

"Oh, and since your latest writing challenge is supposed to be set in Renaissance-era Italy, I got you all sorts of goodies," she trilled. She reached into her beaded handbag (bigger on the inside, than the outside, of course) and pulled out a scribble book from Leonardo da Vinci ("He won't miss it," she reassured me), several written Papal bulls from various Popes ("the proclamations, not the animals."), and an autographed sketch by Botticelli ("Tried to get a marble bust by Michaelangelo, but they wouldn't let it through Customs.").

I'm envious of her, but it's hard to be mad at her when she gives me this child-like smile that lights her eyes up from the depths of her soul. That's how she is: fickle, adventurous, curious, eclectic and wholly fun. It reminds me of when I was a child. I wanted to travel the world, meet all sorts of people, learn every language and custom.

I may not be able to do it in reality, but my Muse keeps that hope alive.


All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2011

The Literary Agent

I lived in Naples, Italy from 1982 to 1987, and like many military kids, I grew very close to my tight knot of friends. The "Naples Gang" met in the library of Naples American High School during breaks from classes. It was a relatively small room int he basement, consisting of a few tables, bookshelves and the ever-present card catalog (this was in the era before computers and the Internet). We laughed and talked, wrote reports and penned stories.

The librarian, Mr. D, was a grandfatherly type who looked after all of us. The library was his domain, of course. He didn't tolerate a ot of guff. At that time, he must have in his forties or early fifties, stocky, balding and bespectacled. He knew about my literary aspirations and encouraged my scribbling.

We had a running joke between us: when I became a famous writer, he'd be my agent and he'd represent me in Hollywood when my books made it to film. There was the good-natured hagging over his "percent". We finally settled it at ten. In fact, at the end of the school year, he wrote the following in my yearbook:

"Long live Rosalyn; long may she write. Remember my percent and see you in Hollywood."

Well, Mr. D. I may not be as big of an author as John Grisham or Stephen King, but I am still looking for an agent!

All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010